


― Power Game ―

by Drey_Damaso



Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: F/F, Fluff and Smut, Freeform, Humor, Post-War
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-01-29
Updated: 2018-01-29
Packaged: 2019-03-10 21:48:23
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 9,668
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/13510434
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Drey_Damaso/pseuds/Drey_Damaso
Summary: When the group of criminals whom the English Ministry has been hunting for months has disappeared by a portal key to France, Hermione Granger must use all her diplomacy, and control, to deal with the French representative who refuses to allow they to continue with the investigation.Fleur Delacour, on the other hand, seems more interested in taking away the focused and competent other witch of the serious than to solve bureaucratic questions.In the end, which one will get what they want most?





	― Power Game ―

**Author's Note:**

> Hello!
> 
> This tale was originally written in Portuguese and later translated with my shit English skills. So... Sorry for something out of place or just weird.  
> If you want, you can reach the Portuguese version in my profile under the title "Jogo de Poder".
> 
> The comments are more than welcome, of course.
> 
> Fleurmione is my favorite couple from the entire HP universe, so I hope you enjoy this version, so to speak.
> 
> And finally: I do not have intellectual property rights, nor do I aim to profit. Everything belongs to J.K. and the executives who do business with her.
> 
> Cheers! o/

 

 

 

“Miss Granger? The meeting starts in five minutes.”

Hermione briefly took her eyes off the parchment and looked at her assistant without giving a damn about the report.

“Right. Thank you, Richard.”

Richard hesitated, nervous at Hermione's disconcerting calm as she continued to mark the edges of the parchment. Biting the corner of his mouth, he left the office.

He'd never seen Hermione be late for anything. And she certainly was not planning to change that habit before such an important meeting.

 

Hermione pulled the reading glasses away and tightened around her eyes, relaxing after the dense reading of the last hour. Stretching her neck and back, she lifted and lined the clothes quickly.

“Richard, I'm leaving. If I don’t come back until 4:00 p.m., send me a memo saying...” Shaking a hand, she shrugged. “Oh, anything, just that it's important. You know Kingsley sometimes starts talking and nothing, in the name of Merlin, makes that man stop...”

Richard managed to nod, a little astonished, watching as Hermione rolled the files on his desk with alarming calm. “O-okey...” Swallowing, the wizard pointed timidly at the watch on his chief's back.

Hermione did not bother turning in the indicated direction.

“Don’t forget to take your lunch break at the right time.” Hermione added, picking out one of the files and holding it to her chest. With a brief smile, the witch disappeared with a "pop".

 

Wide-eyed, Richard gripped the edge of his desk as he nearly fell off the chair and looked in all directions.

“Hey mate, are you okay? Looks like you've seen a ghost...”

Pale as a sheet of paper, Richard turned in the direction of the voice. Melot Braiden, the newly hired Auror, was leaning close to the door, arms folded, looking with concern.

“Y-yes... I just... She...” Richard laughed awkwardly, running a hand down the back of the neck. “Miss Granger has just Disapparated right in front of me...”

Braiden expressed himself through a loud laugh.

“Don’t be stupid, Galles. No one can do such a thing inside the Ministry"

Trying to regain his composure, Richard proceeded to pack some papers on the top of desk. “I know what I saw, Braiden.” He said sternly.

“But it’s not-”

“She's Hermione Granger, you jerk, Law Enforcement chief, the smartest witch of the century. If there's anyone who can get around the security guards of this Ministry, it's her, don't you think?”

Scratching the beard on his chin, the wizard pondered the matter for a few seconds. “I just believe seeing...”

Richard snorted audibly and spread both hands on the table, squeezing his lips into a thin line. “Merlin, Braiden! You don’t have something more important to do? Fuck off and let me work.”

Raising his hands up, the auror flashed a yellow smile and spun on his heels.

Richard grunted, straightening up in the chair and focusing on his chores. That job would still cause him an ulcer.

 

****

 

Hermione entered the large meeting room and looked around, greeting Agnelo Beneto, head of the Department of International Cooperation in Magic and Rubia Massala, Deputy Secretary of the Minister. With a sigh, she pulled out a chair next to the head of the Auror department.

Harry Potter raised his green eyes of the craft he was reading and looked at his best friend.

“Hey, Hermione...” The wizard lightly squeezed her forearm as she sat down.

Smiling back, Hermione unbuttoned her blazer wanting to be more comfortable. “Hi, Harry...” She leaned over, whispering, “Ginny said something about a marathon of the best Quidditch matches of the century?”

Harry's face brightened with enthusiasm. “Yeah, it'll be great, we meet at the house around 7:00 p.m. You're coming, right?”

Hermione restrained the urge to exhale with derision. “Not all the galleons of the world would make me spend the night listening to you, Ginny, Ronald and George screaming like crazy in front of the television. That's too much for my head, but thank you anyway...”

Harry let out a short laugh, knowing how much his friend hated that sport. “Well, it's a pity. We would love your company.”

Smiling softly, Hermione began arranging files on the table.

“Maybe next time...” The witch took on a more serious expression. “This case is taking me mad... How did these guys manage to leave the country when we were so close to picking them up?”

Harry adjusted his glasses, sulky. “They had a very well planned escape route and nothing gets out of my mind that they knew we were coming... It's a bummer we have to wait for this agreement with the French before we follow the clues...” The wizard complained, crossing his arms.

Hermione looked at him, frowning slightly. “We can’t start a chase in French territory, Harry.”

"But it's our job! You know how these people are in such cases, they will certainly remove our jurisdiction!"

“Well, as far as we know, half of the pack is from France. Anyway we would have to deport them to be tried there.” The witch pondered.

"But the investigation is ours. These guys are working in London, making and smuggling illegal potions just under our nose." Harry said in a tight voice, clenching his fists.

Hermione ran her fingers over the forehead, understanding Harry's discomfort. She herself was quite disgusted with how everything unfolded. But the International Laws of Magic were there as barriers, tying them to invisible stakes.

“Anyway, we're here for this, are not we? Beneto has already opened negotiations with the French. They sent a representative to this meeting and I will not leave here without a favorable outcome.”

Harry watched his friend closely, clearly reading determination in Hermione's face. That made him relaxes. Harry doesn’t have patience for bureaucracies, his instinct always instigated for action, for ends. Hermione, on the other hand, despite her strong temperament, was unbeatable in political arrangements, and even in the few months leading up to her high office she had already proven herself efficient on numerous occasions.

“And who will this French snob be anyway?” Harry tried to unwind the mood.

Hermione arched the corners of her mouth, even though she knew she should scold Harry for the content of the joke.

“I have no idea, but-”

Hermione was interrupted by the sound of the double doors opening magically as the mighty Kingsley Shacklebolt's voice echoed down the hall.

Hermione frowned, confused by the sound. Was Kingsley laughing? What the hell?

“That was-” Harry began, equally astonished. They had never, ever heard Kingsley laughing. Neither when he was an Auror and Member of the Order, much less after having assumed the position of Minister.

“A laugh?” Hermione added in a weak voice.

The laughter sounded again, this time closer and they could hear the footsteps approaching the entrance.

Instinctively, Hermione twisted her wrist, feeling the holster holding her wand under the right sleeve. Holding the breath, the witch assimilated, as in slow motion, the arrival of the English Minister of Magic who, to the shock of all, was laughing and with his arm hooked on none other than...

“Fleur Delacour?” Harry gasped.

Without breaking the dazzling smile, or letting go of the Minister's arm, Fleur turned toward they.

“Oh, hello Monsieur Potter,” said the French woman, arching her eyebrow slightly at the figure beside the famous wizard. “And Mademoiselle Granger, what a pleasure to meet you again, oui?”

Hermione felt a frozen whirlwind turn her stomach to the rush of those absurdly blue eyes that stare at her with intensity and intelligence.

“Is not it wonderful? Miss Delacour is the representative of the French Ministry”. Kingsley announced with a harsh tone, disassociated from the enchanted expression he displayed

 _“Merlin ... This must be a fucking joke...”_ Hermione grunted mentally.

“I said the French would take our case...” Harry whispered to the witch, shock all over his face.

Hermione clenched her fists, not looking away from Fleur, who was greeting, with two kisses on the cheek, the other two members of the meeting. Agnelo was about to start drooling and Rubia did not look very different.

“Oh, but if she thinks she's going to get anything out with that bloody Veela charm, she's so mistaken...” Hermione murmured, more to herself than to Harry.

 

After the due presentations and formalities, Kingsley began the meeting. Fleur had taken the chair to the left of the Minister, facing Hermione, seemingly quiet at delighted although her posture was serious and elegance.

Her long blonde hair was tied in a high bun and a graceful sapphire brooch adorned the lapel of her neatly-fitting suit. The image of her only made the anger grow inside Hermione, who held the chair's side so tightly that her knuckles were whitish.

“Bien, it's our understanding that you've lost track of these criminals four days ago, oui? When they escaped from yours aurors by a portal that took them to Paris. Right?” Fleur recounted calmly.

Hermione narrowed her eyes, very aware of the slightly arrogant tone of the French woman. _“How dare she? And still with that nauseating accent...”_

“This portal was made under the eyes of the French Ministry, wasn't it? As far as I know, you should have some kind of control over this magical practice. At least our department has taken measures to prevent the creation of such portals.” Hermione could not help herself.

Kingsley shifted uncomfortably and glared at the brunette. Fleur, on the other hand, let out a crystal chuckle and leaned back in the chair.

“You're quite right, Mademoiselle. And, yes, we have Laws that regulate the creation of portals. Precisely because of them we were able to get to the place the group used only a few seconds after they were transported.” Fleur still kept the tone polite.

“But then they scape...” Hermione pointed out.

“Oui... They scape, unfortunately, yes.” The Veela repeated with a small smile.

Hermione kept her expression neutral, never taking her eyes off the blonde, whom returned as if she were finding the most enjoyable conversation of her life. Hermione's blood was boiling more and more.

“What puts us in parallel, is not it Miss Delacour?” Hermione snapped. “A joint force is our best strategy and-”

“Non, non...” Fleur interrupted her, holding up a hand. “None of this will be necessary.... We are already on the trail of these criminals, and their arrest is only a matter of time. My visit here is just a courtesy.”

“Courtesy?” Hermione repeated, gaping.

“Oui,” Fleur replied soberly.

Agnelo and Rubia looked confused. Their presence was as useful as a weight of paper.

“You can’t do that. We've been working on this for weeks! The case is ours!” Harry argued, his face went red.

Fleur seemed to chew some words in her mouth, forming sentences, still with the same stoic expression. “Tell me, Monsieur Potter, why my Ministry should show some cordiality and allow you to investigate in our own territory when you did not deign to tell us that you had individuals of French nationality? Hmm? You only looked for us when you lost sight of them. Literally, if I may add...”

Harry opened his mouth, but Hermione stopped holding him by the arm. Merlin, Fleur was right. Shit. Achieving the ego of French wizards was playing with fire.

With a half satisfied smile, Fleur watched Hermione intently, as if expecting her to argue against what was said.

“Miss Delacour,” Kingsley called out with a friendly smile. “In fact, there was a flaw in our diplomacy, but we only found out about the nationality of these individuals a few days ago, when the plan to arrest them was already set. Of course we warned your Ministry as soon as possible.”

Fleur turned to the Minister. For mere seconds, her eyes flashed an orange glow. “We aren't convinced that a partnership is the best strategy, Minister. It is our right, and duty, to stop this group once they are within our borders.” Fleur announced in a cooler tone than before.

Kingsley clenched his jaw. He was not stupid. From the first moment he had noticed the Veela charm invading his system. Generally, his training kept him immune, but Fleur was too powerful and had managed to affect him. Gradually, however, the Minister regained his dominions.

“Then let us try to change that, please?” Kingsley launched, using his authority. “Would you be willing to cooperate with one of us, hear about the case and then realize how much progress we have made and how much this will help your Ministry?”

Fleur seemed to take what was said and kept silent for a few seconds. After a sigh, she shook her head. “Oui. I believe this is reasonable, but I must warn you that I have only tonight... So please show me your most efficient person so we can start soon.”

Satisfied with himself, Kingsley put his fingers through the tips. Hermione felt a chill as the Minister met her gaze.

“Granger, follow Miss Delacour, will you?”

Hermione wanted to sink her forehead to the table and groan in despair. The sensation in her stomach only worsened as Fleur looked at her with clear anticipation and a predatory smile on the lips.

“Sir, I...” The witch began, but stopped, forcing a limited smile. “It will be my pleasure, of course.”

“Excellent,” Kingsley exclaimed already getting to his feet. “I have matters that demand my attention. You are in good hands, Miss Delacour.”

Fleur mimicked the Minister's movement and shook the hand he offered.

“There is no doubt about it, Minister.” The Veela smiled graciously.

Kingsley blinked a few times and released the Frenchwoman’s hand in a hurry.

“Err... Right. Keep me updated,” he asked at Hermione, who nodded.

Harry stood beside Hermione and folded his arms. “I can go with you, if you want...”

Discreetly, Hermione shook her head. “Don’t worry, Harry. Like I said, I'm not giving up before we get our deal.”

Breathing heavily, the wizard gave up and squeezed the witch's hand briefly. “Let me know if you need anything.” Then, he turned polite to the Frenchwoman. “Fleur.”

“Arry, was nice to meet you” the blonde returned, smiling cordially.

“Yeah, sure... See ya,” and with that, Harry took off.

Hermione gathered her briefcases and held them in front of her chest. Everyone had already dispersed, leaving her alone with the French representative. Looking around, the witch added her options, outlining the best strategy for that match.

“Would you mind if we went to my office?” The brunette asked. “I did not expect to have to ahm... Watch you for the rest of the afternoon. I need to take care of some urgent matters, but I promise it will only take time for you to have some tea.”

Fleur arched an eyebrow. “Oui. It seems fair.” With one hand, she gestured “Show the way, please.”

Hermione took the lead, feeling oddly watched by the other witch.

 

On the way, Fleur remained silent, just wandering her eyes in the corridors and halls. In the elevator, she stood behind Hermione like a ghost. The Englishwoman stirred, uneasy, very aware that in that restricted space all the air she breathed was impregnated with the certainly French perfume of the Veela.

Hermione almost cried with relief when the metallic voice announced the floor of her department. Leaving, the witch followed the corridor.

“Richard,” she called turning the last corner.

The wizard popping up in front of her with a cup of coffee floating beside and a parchment open before his eyes.

“Abbott sent the report on the case of misuse of magic during the last Muggle Music Festival. Apparently someone found it amusing to transform yourself in...” He narrowed his eyes, reading intently. “A “Lady Gaga”, whatever that means, and get on stage...” The assistant laughed and shook his head. “Anyway... Ahn, and Bones marked the meeting with the Supreme Court to-”

Richard broke off, finally realizing that his boss had not returned alone. Red as a tomato, the wizard opened and closed his mouth.

Hermione rolled her eyes and picked up the coffee that was still floating. Caffeine, ironically, was the only thing that calmed her nerves. “This is-”

“Fleur Delacour...” Stammered the assistant, taking a hopeful step toward the blonde.

“Oh, oui, have we met?” Fleur made no effort in hiding that she was having a great time with the whole scene.

“N-no, no...” Richard laughed and ran a hand down the back of his neck, not even blinking. “I-I have your card. Y-your collectible card... What is quite rare, as you should know... But I got into an exchange and-”

“By Morgana's haunted wand!” Hermione grunted, rolling her eyes slowly and then leaving the room without even looking back.

Fleur laughed quietly and followed the irritated brunette. Richard blinked a few times before being able to follow the pair.

Hermione tossed the files on the table and stood with her back to the door, still shaking her head and murmuring her indignation as she rummaged through the documents.

Fleur entered the room and immediately let out a whistle of approval. The room was huge, certainly enhanced by magic. Three of the four walls were crammed with books, only the one behind the desk was cut by large windows that looked out onto a breathtaking green landscape. At first she thought it was Hogwarts grounds, but the mountainous setting was strangely familiar to her.

“This... Is this in France?” The Veela asked in surprise.

Hermione did not have to raise her eyes to know what the question was.

“Yes. A small province in the south near to Nice. My parents and I spent some time there during our vacation.” The Englishwoman replied, her face slightly flushed.

Fleur smiled satisfied and continued her slight discreet prospecting. Overall, the atmosphere was extremely cozy, with a fireplace in front of a set of dark and generously upholstered sofas. A small circular table and a piece of furniture with various drinks were hanging around the bottom. Fleur recognized some French liquor labels from distance.

“You've certainly made yourself comfortable here, non?” The blonde teased, running her fingers along the spines of the books, walking the length of the room.

Hermione gestured randomly, writing a quick note.

“I spend a lot of time here, so...Yes.” Turning to her assistant, she held out the piece of parchment. “Richard, if you've finished your drooling, please take care of this and then you can go home."

Astonished at being caught admiring the blonde beauty parading around the room, the wizard cleared his throat and picked up the parchment. “Go away? But it’s only half a-”

“Richard... Enjoy the bloody slack without complaint, yes?” Hermione held the bridge of her nose. What a day... Merlin.

With a bow, the assistant stepped back. “Sure, boss, thank you... And, I-It was a pleasure, Miss Delacour.”

Fleur turned and opened one of her best smiles. “It was all my pleasure, Monsieur. I hope we see each other again.”

Richard practically stumbled on his own feet, laughing stupidly and repeating a bow in an exaggerated way.

Hermione closed the door with a wave of her wand as the assistant finally left. “Do you really need to do this sort of thing to everyone?” The brunette heard herself ask, unable to contain herself.

Fleur's crystal-clear laughter echoed through the room, sending shivers all over Hermione's body, which folded her arms swiftly.

“I don't do it to everyone.”

“Oh no? Because everything I saw today showed me the opposite.” Hermione snapped, closing her face.

Fleur arched the corner of her mouth and walked slowly to stand before the Englishwoman. Tilting her face, she lifted a hand and subtly touched Hermione's cheek, sliding her fingers until she pulled a brown strand behind her ear. “I don't do it with you, Ermione...” The blonde softly purred.

Hermione felt her mouth dry and found herself unable to turn away from the blue eyes that glowed mysteriously.

“Whatever.” Hermione walked away, uncomfortably bothered by that closeness. What was the French people problem with personal space?

With quick steps, Hermione walked till the tea utensils she had on top of the round table. With a wave of her wand, she prepared the drink and arranged the tray. When she turned, Fleur had settled into one of the sofas and looked quite comfortable. Frowning at the obvious lack of notion of the other, the witch deposited the tray over the center support.

“Make yourself at home...” She said with irony. “I promise I'll only take a few minutes.”

Fleur smiled and leaned forward to reach for her cup, following the brunette with the corner of her eyes. Taking a careful sip, she considered this visit to the English Ministry infinitely more interesting than she had originally thought.

 

Hermione sat at her desk and put on her glasses with a long sigh, not sure where to start. A series of matters demanded her urgent attention, but she would have to find a way to pass them on to the next day, all because the Minister had the brilliant idea of designating her as a nanny of that snobbish and... Ridiculously beautiful and French woman.

Hermione pulled the first parchment from the pile and frowned at Fleur, who seemed distracted by her nails on the couch. _"Arg, Merlin, can she be more futile? She has not changed since we met... Frankly..."_ The witch grunted mentally. Hermione had serious theories that the person who had taken care of her at the Shell Cottage had been some of Veela's ultra-hidden personality, for under no circumstances did she corroborate to the empty, spoiled person she remembered and who was, it seemed, before her at that moment.

Years had passed since she had last seen Fleur, only weeks after the Battle of Hogwarts, in the Burrow, announcing the end of her marriage with Bill without much explanation. Ginny had suspected that Fleur could no longer bear Mrs. Weasley honking in her ears that she wanted grandchildren, but Hermione always suspected the motives were deeper.

And then after the divorce, Fleur returned to France and disappeared. All this mystery only fueled Hermione's shock when she came across the Veela attributed to such an important post in the French Ministry, and how, in Merlin's name, had Hermione not known about that before? Was Fleur some sort of secret agent? Being Veela, she was an invaluable asset in any negotiation.

Hermione almost jumped out of her own skin when she felt a presence at her side. With a hand on her chest, the brunette turned with a scowl at Fleur, who had sneaked up and sat on Hermione's table with the naturalness of those who had done it a million times.

“For Morgana’s cauldron, Fleur!” Hermione exhaled, still breathing heavily. “What is your fucking problem?”

Laughing, the Frenchwoman started to play with the objects on the table. “Je sui desolé, Ermione, I did not want to startle you, but it's been ten minutes since you're looking at the emptiness... And I was beginning to feel bored and alone there.”

Leaning back in her chair, Hermione did her best to not glance down the long, tanned legs that Fleur crossed a few inches from her face, apparently oblivious to the fact that her skirt had climbed a few inches with the movement. Blaming her fright for the flush that covered her cheeks, Hermione cleared her throat. “Let's get this over with, then... I have already seen that I will not be able to handle my issues for today...”

“I'm sorry about that...” The Veela said, but it did not sound at all convincing.

Hermione glanced at her and twisted her lips. “How long have you been in the French Ministry? As far as I knew, you worked on breaking curses thing.” She blurted out, unable to hold her curiosity.

Fleur picked up an ivory-shaped hourglass and turned in her hands, watching the sand drip from one compartment to the other. “A few months ago... Officially...” She looked at another witch quickly. "The work at Gringotts was no longer interesting, so I decided to change...”

Hermione laughed, unable to believe. “Right... Yes, of course...” She shook her head.

“How about you? Chief of the largest Department of English Ministry in record time, oui? Who would have thought that the most intelligent witch of our age is also the most ambitious...” The French teased with a suggestive smile.

Rolling her eyes, Hermione put herself on the defensive. “It has nothing to do with ambition,” she replied, folding her arms. “Kingsley offered me the job after reform at the Ministry.”

“And you like?” The simple question came in a lower tone.

“Yes I like. I can make the changes I've always planned and still help our society.”

Fleur smiled gently. “I think it suits you..." the Frenchwoman commented, touching the other witch's eyeglasses. “And this too... And your clothes and this office...”

Hermione stammered, unsure how to react by both rapprochement and compliment. With their eyes fixed on each other, the minutes passed languid, like the grains of sand in the hourglass Fleur still held.

The Veela suddenly turned away, unexpectedly upset. “And your girlfriend, does she mind if you spend so much time here?” Fleur asked, staring out the window with a distant voice.

Surprised by the sudden change of subject and the extremely personal inquiries, Hermione frowned. “Girlfriend...?”

Fleur rolled her eyes. “Oui. That girl with Slytherin's snobbish face, non? Greengrassss...” she hissed the name theatrically.

Startled, Hermione just watched as Fleur left the table and stood by the window, casually playing with the thick curtain.

“Wha-how did you...?” The brunette stammered.

Fleur twisted her lips in a weak smile. “Bill and I keep in touch,” she looked over her shoulder and without warning gave a short laugh, shaking her head. “The funny thing was that Bill and I came to make a bet on with who you'd leave Hogwarts... We both lost, if you want to know.”

Gritting her teeth, Hermione glared at Veela, not believing what she had just heard. Bet? About her? About who she... “You two what?!" she shouted.

Apparently oblivious to the witch's syncope, Fleur scratched her nails by the back of the sofa, lost in thought. “Bill was sure that you would end up with Ron...” she intoned with an exaggerated grimace. “Like his little brother had a chance, right?” The laugh of mockery completed the comment. “But I was sure you and Ginny would end up together.”

Fleur stopped with the hand under her chin, reflective as if evaluating a work of art.

Hermione choked on her own saliva. Trembling, she lifted a finger, which was soon lowered. Her mind tried to assimilate that frighteningly weird conversation, but until then it was failing.

“Though you live together, oui? You and Ginny. Does that give me half a win?” The French witch tried to joke. “And again, what does your little sweetheart think about it?”

Raising her hand over her forehead, Hermione brusquely brushed off her glasses and held up both hands. “Fleur, this is just too weird. You and William... Ginny and I ...?” Hermione began to walk, feeling the beginning of an anxiety crisis. “Do you disappear and then bet on my life? We need to agree on the potion dealers and you... Merlin, Fleur!”

Following the nervous march of Hermione, the Frenchwoman leaned against the sofa and waited for the witch to calm down.

After a few long deep breaths, Hermione buried her hands in her hair and turned, moistening her parched lips. “I don’t want to hear bullshit anymore. We have a serious matter in our hands. And my private life doesn't matter the shit to your concern, or who I date or who I share my apartment with. Are we understood? Either accepts my terms, or I'll go right up to the French Minister in person and request that they make another representative available.” Hermione took a deep breath. “I don’t want to hear about your little games anymore.”

Arching the corner of the lips, Fleur held up her hands, symbolizing her resignation. “Oui, Mademoiselle. I apologize for my indiscretion, I confess that I was carried away by... Nostalgia...” She then smiled charmingly. “Let's get down to business.”

Hermione looked at her suspiciously, but with no other choice, nodded once. It was best to end it as soon as possible and dispatch Fleur and her perfect smile across the English Channel.

Resolutely, the Englishwoman settled into the corner of the sofa and indicated the space opposite to her. Fleur took it and crossed her legs, without looking away from the other witch. Hermione cleared her throat and waved her wand, bringing from the file a series of briefcases that flew to the center support.

 

For two hours, they worked without major incidents. Fleur initially stood skeptical, but the detailed work of the investigation was stirring up her interest.

Hermione leaned back against the backrest and pushed her glasses away, massaging her temples without even realizing it. Fleur watched with attention.

“We have indications that this group has been acting for years, but they have never been so ambitious, so we never detected them. Apparently, it was after the addition of these French individuals that the operation gained major proportions.” Hermione commented, opening three more files.

“Oui. Makes sense, yes. After all, we French are very good at potions... New more able members would only make the production grow.” The Veela blurted out.

Hermione shot her a dry look. “Are you really bragging about it?”

Fleur shrugged, laughing. “I'm just aligning the facts...”

“Of course, that's all right,” the brunette scorned.

“You take things too seriously, mon ami...” The blonde witch laughed again.

Frowning, Hermione let go of the quill. “The matter is serious, Delacour. These potions are not only dangerous to wizards and witches, but they also illegally exploit a number of threatened plants and animals. It's a whole criminal movement that threatens us!” She exploded with vehemence.

Fleur bit the inside of her lip, admiring the intense manner in which Hermione communicated. It was impossible not to be affected. The Frenchwoman’s mind wandered, imagining the Department Head presiding over meetings with all that energy, demanding nothing less than total commitment from all her co-ordinates.

“We will let's get them, Ermione...”

“When do you say we...?” The brunette sounded hopeful.

With a light laugh, Fleur shifted her legs. “Non, I still have not changed my mind...”

Hermione snorted audibly. “What more could you want? I've already told you about our entire operation. Which, by the way, is a great test of goodwill, many of this information was confidential. We have lists of suppliers and we are monitoring the receiving market. Without our help, you would have to start the investigation pretty much from scratch.”

Fleur considered the speech and tapped her index finger on the tip of her chin. “There's one more thing I want.”

Clenching her teeth, Hermione hardened her face, not believing in the audacity of the woman in front of her, who was obviously enjoying herself and taking advantage of her position.

“Say it at once.”

Fleur hugged her own abdomen, her features almost innocent. “A dinner...?”

Without understanding, Hermione looked at her suspiciously. “Dinner?”

“Oui. You see, I ended up missing lunch and, frankly, my head stops working when I'm hungry.” The Veela revealed with a slight smile.

Hermione squeezed the top of her nose and sighed. The prospect of prolonging the other witch's presence tormented her for at least half a dozen reasons. More alarming, however, was the thought that it would not be at all bad to share a meal with her. Hermione was, after all, equally hungry and in desperate need of rest.

“Okay,” the Englishwoman agreed. “We can go to my apartment if you don’t mind. That way we can continue our subject with privacy.”

Fleur's face brightened with a smile that Hermione found quite predatory, but pretended not to notice.

Rising, the witch waved her wand arranging the documents and sending them back to the file. Reaching out, she invited: “Let's go?”

Fleur accepted the support and interlaced Hermione's fingertips, pleased to notice the brunette holding her breath at the contact.

“Would not we have to go to the lobby to use the floo network there?" The Frenchwoman asked.

Hermione allowed herself a grin. “We will not use the floo network, we will apparate in my home.”

Shifting her foot, Fleur acquired an unbelieving expression. “Err, Ermione... You can’t apparate inside a Minis-” The words gave way to a shriek of surprise as the Veela felt the typical sensation of a hook pulling her navel. Completely unprepared, Fleur was dragged by time and space, reappearing, milliseconds later, in the middle of a dimly lit hall.

“What, Merlin's good memory, was that?” Fleur leaned against a wall.

Hermione calmly leaned her wand on the door latch, which opened gently. “I thought you were familiar with apparation, Miss Delacour.”

Still dizzy and nauseous, Fleur followed the other witch into the apartment. “Don't play dumb with me, Ermione... No one should be able to apparated and disapparated inside a Ministry of Magic. It is a basic measure of safety, just as the foyer's fireplaces are connected to the floo network.”

With disdain, Hermione paced the room, taking off her shoes by the door and sighing with relief. “Oh, sweet Morgana, how good it is to get rid of this...” Looking over her shoulder, she found the Frenchwoman still shocked. “Don’t worry, the barriers are strong. I just found a way around them. It was extremely irritating to go to the lobby whenever I had to go out to solve something ... It took me a long time. Not to mention that always had at least about fifteen people on the way and all wanting to talk ...” The witch rolled her eyes, emphasizing.

Stunned, Fleur just nodded. It was a fair motive, in fact. But still incredibly impressive that Hermione had managed to circumvent the security rules of one of the most guarded institutions in the world.

Fleur finally looked around, assimilating the environment. The apartment did not look too big, suitable for two people. The living room, the dining room, and the kitchen occupied a single space, and in the middle was a corridor leading to the bedrooms.

“And Ginny?” Fleur asked slightly fearfully, peering at the corners.

“I believe she's still in training...” Hermione replied casually, pulling off her blazer. “And after she will go to Harry’s apartment... It seems that tonight has a Quidditch special or a similar nonsense and everyone will watch and scream like ogres.”

Fleur laughed, following Hermione into the kitchen. “I see you're still disgusted with this sport...”

The Englishwoman opened a cupboard and picked up two glasses. “It still irritates me that you know information about me. I'll have to have a talk with Bill about his gossiping habits...” Opening another door, Hermione picked one of the bottles. “Fancy some wine?”

Fleur smirked, lifting her body on the counter. “Always.” She slowly opened the buttons of her blazer as she watched Hermione fill the glasses.

When she turned, Hermione found Fleur resting on her elbows, wearing a silk shirt that seemed to run down her body, exposing a good deal of neck and collarbone.

Swallowing hard, the brunette held out one of the goblets, keeping a distance that was insufficient to shield her from the other witch's intoxicating scent. “Do you always feel so comfortable in someone else's house?”

Fleur smiled against the edge of the glass, trying on the drink she found deliciously appropriate. Hermione surprised with all her latent good taste. Those were details that Bill would never be able to observe. But it was infinitely more fun to discover them on their own. “Non. Usually I don’t feel comfortable in other people house like this... I think that’s your effect on me, Mademoiselle Granger. Despite all the hard game that you made me trough.”

Hermione practically choked on her wine. Her eyes burned with the effort to curb the tears. “H-hard game?”

With a clear laugh, Fleur dropped the glass on the counter. “Oui. Since you've seen me, all I get is stunts and hard stares. Not that you do not look adorable when you frown... Oh, that, just like that!” The Veela laughed again.

Blushing, Hermione turned away from the kitchen. Fleur was... Blatantly flirting with her? _“It must be a strategy to destabilize me... Oh, sweet Merlin, she doesn’t know who she's playing with...”_

Ignoring the current tension that settled, Hermione picked up the phone and dialed the number she knew by heart. “I hope you like Chinese food. There's an excellent Muggle restaurant of which Ginny and I are assiduous. Sounds good?”

Fleur nodded and left the counter, noting Hermione's tension after what she had said. It had been an impulse. Not that it wasn't true. Ever since she looked at the young witch, her instincts flashed. Hermione had become an even more interesting woman. And what fascinated her most was that despite all the fame and power, the witch still kept her head free from vanity.

Watching Hermione make the food request through that Muggle device, which Fleur still could not fully comprehend, the Veela made the decision that yes, she would achieve her goal of disengaging the other witch from all those defenses and make her see how well they could work together. Fleur had not been so intrigued by anyone for a long time...

Hermione took the bottle of wine and her glass into the living room, where she took up a space on the couch. Fleur imitated her in sequence, and they faced each other, leaning sideways against the arms of the furniture.

“Do you mind if I light the fireplace?” The Frenchwoman asked, already waving her wand, giving lazy flames to the fireplace in the middle of the room.

Shaking her head, Hermione sipped her wine. “Why did you disappear all these years?” She inquired, not knowing what else to pull.

Sliding his fingers along the rim of the goblet, Fleur flashed an apathetic smile. “I needed to find my way and... And it's not like I have a lot of ties here in London, right?”

“There was Bill, and oh, the Order of the Phoenix,” the brunette ventured uncertainly.

“Bill and I are still friends, as you well know. And, let's be honest, Ermione, no one really cared about me. I never deceived myself about it, about what everyone thought and, probably still think, about me.”

Hermione looked away, suddenly ashamed. “It was hard times, Fleur...”

With a hoarse laugh, the Frenchwoman leaned her head over her fist. “Oui, I agree...” After a sigh, she looked up. “But that does not change the fact that I've never felt accept as a member of the Order, let alone by the Weasley family and those close to them.”

The content of the sentence had become clear and even with the resentful tone, Hermione did not feel accused directly of anything. However, it didn’t stop her from feeling even guiltier about all the times she'd joined Ginny to speak ill of Bill's arrogant fiancée.

“I'm sorry for everything, Fleur... I know I could have been more... Receptive...?” The witch gave a weak smile. “Despite all our surroundings on that time, many of us were just teenagers. Stupid, rash and immature teenagers.”

Compressing her lips, Fleur nodded slowly. “And I fall into that category. At the time everything seemed frantic and about to collapse at any moment. Once the war was won I saw myself for the first time with the prospect of a free future. And that made me rethink my choices, including my marriage and my stay in this cold, gray country.”

Hermione laughed at the end of the sentence, not being able to disagree. “But we're not teenagers anymore...”

Fleur caught her gaze for a moment, trying to read any hidden meaning from that. But before she could answer anything, the sound of a doorbell startled her. In an instant, she pulled out her wand and stood up.

Hermione laughed light-heartedly and calmly released her glass. “Stay cool Delacour... It's just the intercom. Our dinner arrived.”

Embarrassed, the Veela put her wand down and sat back, regaining her composure. “So fast? Are you sure they don’t use magic in preparation?”

Hermione's laughter echoed once more. “I’m sure.”

Not knowing what to do, Fleur watched as Hermione answered the intercom and waited in front of the door after taking out what the she recognized as Muggle money from the drawer of one of the furniture. A few seconds later, a knock sounded on the door and Hermione answered it, receiving a smiling young man who held out a bulky brown bag.

“Good evening, Miss Granger,” the deliveryman said cheerfully. “Your hair looks beautiful today! New cut?”

Laughing lightly, the witch took the bag and held out the bills. “No, Rafael, I did not cut it. But thanks. Here, keep the change.”

"Thank you..." He put away the money and smiled a little more confident. "It's been a while since you called us ... I was happy when I saw your request ... I came as fast as I could, you know..."

Hermione nodded, watching the boy who should not have been more than eighteen. She liked Rafael as much as possible, but it was always embarrassing when he tried to pull off a conversation.

"Ow, that's sweet of you. It's been a while, truth, but today I have company and I decided not to risk setting fire to the kitchen,” the witch joked, trying to close the dialogue.

Rafael folded his arms, careful to push his pectoral with the movement. “Ah, is Ginny there too? Girl's night, yeah?” The boy said jovially, peering into the apartment with interest.

Hermione opened her mouth to answer, but she fell silent as she felt two hands wrap around her waist and delicate lips kissing her neck.

“Non, non is not Ginny... But, yes, it's the girls night...” Fleur replied, resting her chin on the brunette's shoulder and sticking their bodies together.

Rafael widened his eyes, blushing to the roots of his hair. Hermione wanted to be angry with the Frenchwoman, but her whole body shivered with that closeness and locked her in place.

“Oh, my, uh... R-right..." The boy ran a hand over the back of his neck, striding backward. “Then I'd better get a leak, eh?” Rafael gave a nervous laugh.

“Thank you for the delivery.” Fleur said with a killer smile and laced her hand in Hermione's.

“No problem ... It's my job...” He looked from one to the other. “Sooo... Have a good night a-and a good meal.”

"Au revoir," the blonde witch said and watched the boy disappear down the stairs with hurried footsteps.

“Fleur?” Hermione called after a few seconds.

“Oui?”

“Can you, by Morgana's grace, leave me out?”

Fleur did not want to. It was too nice to feel Hermione like that. The silky hair brushing her cheeks, the warmth of her body inciting Fleur up and the exuberant scent that sweated and made it almost impossible to keep her lips away from her skin. But before she could do it, Hermione broke free and headed for the kitchen, hiding her red face.

“What the hell was that? Now Rafael will think... Thinking that you and I... That we..." Stammered Hermione, dropping the bag on the table and handing out its contents.

Smoothly lining up her silk blouse, Fleur looked at Hermione with an indifference she did not feel. “And that would be a problem? I just wanted to help. The boy was blatantly hitting on you.”

Hermione laughed nervously. “No, he was not. And even if he was, would that be a problem?” She returned with irony.

Glancing at the contents of the packages, Fleur twisted her lips. “Should not it be? What would your petit girlfriend think if she saw the scene?” The scornful tone was inherent.

With a snort, Hermione threw her hands up. “That is not at all your damn concern, Delacour! And Daphne and I are not together anymore, okay? We broke up a couple of months ago... Bloody hell...”

Fleur stopped with a rice scone halfway to her mouth, her eyes slightly wide. Without consent her heart escaped a beat. “Y-you two are not together a-anymore?” She repeated hoarsely.

Uneasy, Hermione shifted her foot, avoiding looking at the blonde. “Merlin, why so much interest in my love life, anyway?”

Dropping the scone on the table, Fleur advanced toward the witch and held her by the waist. “My interest is not pretty much clear?" she asked, looking directly at Hermione’s lips.

Swallowing, Hermione backed away from the liaison, but her escape was prevented by the kitchen counter. “That's not funny, Fleur... Enough of those games of Veela’s seduction, okay? N-we have nothing... N-we are not... Or we will have...” her lexicon left her momentarily, as well as the ability to breathe.

Fleur took it with an incentive and invested once more. “Why not, Ermione? We're both single, alone here... Your wine is delicious and I'd be lying if I did not say I wanted to kiss you all day long.”

Hermione laughed nervously and raised her hands, seeking to create a barrier between her and the French woman who looked at her so intensely that it seemed to hypnotize her. The words echoing in her mind. Did Fleur want to kiss her? It did not make any sense.

“If you're fucking kidding me, Fleur, I swear by Merlin's boots that I will make you pay...”

Fleur smiled seductively. Every instant the prospect of having the other witch in her arms made her tremble in anticipation. Catching Hermione's hand, she slid hers fingers over her own lip, causing spasms in both.

“You're a clever witch, Ermione... Are you going to say you did not notice the way I look at you?”

Her fingertips tingled and Hermione's mouth watered at the mere suggestion of tasting those fleshy lips. “That's crazy, Fleur... We... We barely know each other, we don’t even spend a couple of hours together, and in fact most of the time we were fighting.”

Fleur laughed in a hoarse tone and held the other again around the waist, this time more securely, trailing her fingers into the skin the shirt exposed. “You fought me, ma cherie... Your genius, your temper... Somehow it makes you sexy, you know? All bossy... I always found it cute, but now...”

Hermione went over her possibilities. In the latter case, she could use a spell to push the other away. Fleur looked strong, but Hermione relied on her abilities. But... She wanted to push the blonde witch away?

It would be foolish to deny the attraction she felt. Fleur was, for lack of a better expression, absurdly dazzling and seductive. Supposedly nothing prevented her from giving in, giving vent to the desire that was numbing her. But it was crazy, was not it? She, Hermione Granger, having an affair with Fleur Delacour... Who could have imagined such a thing? What if it was just a strategy? Not that made much sense, because it was Hermione who needed to make the other change her mind. At that moment, Fleur was winning, so what, for Merlin sake, the Frenchwoman was claiming?

“You think too much, Ermione... Let me clean your thoughts...” Without giving room for hesitation, Fleur pulled her firmly and plunged their mouths, challenging Hermione to kiss her back or to push away.

The contact knocked over all of Hermione's defenses, which felt her body boil at the same instant. Fleur’s lips were soft and delicate, but vehement and audacious. Her taste was... Hermione gasped and unknowingly hooked the witch by the neck and deepened the kiss.

It was Fleur's turn to sigh and, as involved as the other, press their bodies even more, almost forcing Hermione up the bench.

Hungry hands began to wander.

Needing more, Fleur lowered her mouth down Hermione's neck, savoring the warm skin that exuded a magnificent scent.

 The Englishwoman also gave in to the urgency, unbuttoning the other's shirt without care. With sudden movements, Fleur got rid of the piece and demanded Hermione's lips in an even more heated kiss. It seemed so right and so perfect. The way they fit together, the warmth radiating, the sensations that surfaced. Hermione was surpassing expectations that Fleur did not even know she had built.

“Are you still thinking that is stupid?” The blonde witch teased, working on undressing the other's shirt.

“Shut up,” Hermione returned, her teeth pricking at the blonde's shoulder as her fingers unzipped Fleur’s skirt.

Fleur laughed and walked away, not taking her eyes off her prey. Slowly, she finished opening her skirt and let the fabric slide down her legs, toasting Hermione with all the sight of her figure in only a tiny set of lingerie.

Hermione almost did collapse, her mouth suddenly dry as she savored at all that sight.

“Your turn,” the Frenchwoman announced with a purr.

“You really like to play, don’t you?”

Just raising an eyebrow, Fleur brought her hands up to her back, untying the clasp of her bra. When the piece subsided, she held it in front of her breasts. Hermione's eyes flashed with desire.

“If you not take off, chérie, you will not see anything else...”

Hermione slowly lowered her fingers down her abdomen until she found the zipper. Fleur followed each movement with glowing eyes, worshiping the witch's resourcefulness as she freed herself from the pants as if she dominating the whole environment. And that was exactly what Fleur wanted: Hermione without shame.

With two steps, Hermione yanked Fleur's bra off and tossed it over her shoulders, glancing down at her target neck, salivating with anticipation. In a nimble move, she lifted the blonde until she was wrapped around her waist and moved them both into the living room, collapsing on the couch in the middle of a torrid kiss.

They bodies collide in frenzy, the dense breaths mingled and the mouths ran every millimeter that was possible. Hermione was burning inside, fueled by the volcanic compass in which the Veela compelled her. She had never experienced such a desperate scene of passion, such an astonishing surrender of pure desire.

Fleur's hands were like hot wax, burning in her skin, tearing moans and unthinkable pleasures. Sharp yet delicate teeth challenged her to push the boundary between pain and supreme delight.

Unable to hold on, Hermione lowered one hand between the legs of the French witch and filled her with purpose, generating in both spasms electrified.

“Ermione, mon dieu...” Fleur dug her nails into the Hermione’s back, lifting her hips for more contact.

Hermione plunged her mouth into Fleur’s neck, sliding her lips and tongue all over the sweaty feverish skin.

Fleur gasped, unable to control the volume of her groans, her whole body gathering every level of pleasure, carrying it to the edge of that ledge that would free her. Hermione was driving her crazy, moving her fingers and body, kissing her with a visceral hunger and slowing down every time she felt her close to ecstasy.

“Ermione... For fuck sake, please..." Fleur held her tightly around the back of her neck.

Loving the expression of desperation on the witch's face, Hermione smile convinced and bit her lower lip, intensifying the movements of her fist.

“You were not the one who liked games, chérie...?” The Englishwoman teased, earning a grunt in response.

Fleur squeezed her eyes shut, losing all ability to do anything but feel. Feel Hermione's fingers, the warmth of their bodies, the ragged breath in her ear and that incredibly overwhelming wave that seemed to create a ball of pure energy in her lower belly. With one last movement, Hermione led her to the heavens and the ends of the earth, plucking from her throat a muffled animalistic cry that seemed to echo from every corner of her soul.

With short breathing, the two of them held each other. Fleur was still seeing stars and an unprecedented satisfaction took her for having Hermione above herself that way. It was just... Perfect.

A noise startled them and, with wide eyes, they turned to the door, completely unguarded.

Ginny froze in the stride, gaping, her hand still on the latch, her face as livid as the others two witches.

In the distance, voices arrived still half-muffled:

“I still can’t believe you threw a bludgers against my television, Ron! It was brand new, man!” Harry sounded annoyed.

“Relax, mate. We can ask Hermione to fix it. She understands these things, doesn’t she? Or must have a book that teaches how to do... Anyway... Come on, I want to know how Ireland's game against Egypt ends!

“Ginny, you said you had beer in your-” George did not finish the sentence, having reached his sister, still static.

Harry and Ron arrived shortly afterwards and it took no more than two seconds to absorb the image before them.

Ron turned purple the instant he recognized Fleur Delacour, completely naked, beneath his best friend, Hermione Granger, equally naked. Harry covered his eyes, desperate to not assimilate anything even more embarrassing. George had a huge smile on his face, bewildered by what I was seeing and with his mind already swarming with thousands of future jokes. Ginny looked petrified, her mouth dry and her breathing heavier.

Hermione wanted to die, to disappear. “It's not what it looks like..." The brunette stammered.

George gave a mocking laugh and Ginny raised her eyebrows.

“I doubt it very much, Hermione...” the redhead snapped with a little smirk.

Clearing her throat, Fleur folded her hands into Hermione's and opened an incredibly confident smile. “It's a pleasure to see you all, how long, non? Ermione and I will spend the night at my hotel, but would not it be great if we got together for breakfast and, you know, talk?” The Frenchwoman offered good-humored.

Hermione almost broke her neck to face her in disbelief.

The four near the door murmured variations of "sure" and "I can't wait," which made the blonde smile. Hermione had not even settled into what was happening when she felt a pinch in her navel and with a “pop”, the two disappeared from the couch.

Ginny wiped her sweaty hands on her jeans and turned, still a little shaken, to her brothers and Harry. “That was... Ahn, uh... Unexpected...” she breathed out.

“Yeah...” George echoed.

Harry stared at the sofa with a vacant face. “Merlin, when Hermione said that she would do anything to convince Fleur I would never... Wow... I did not imagine...”

Ginny was the first to laugh, which generated a wave of laughter that lasted several minutes.

George wiped away a tear and headed for the kitchen, shaking his head. “Hermione Granger and Fleur Delacour... Who would have thought?” He laughed again.

“Oh, guys..." Ron called from the living room. When everyone looked, he gestured around: “What are we going to do with these clothes?”

Seeing the despair in his friend's red face, Harry burst out laughing again, to the point of needing to rest on his knees.

Ginny waved her wand and the pieces disappeared immediately. “Well, at least Hermione has remained true to her taste of what comes from France, has not she?”

 

 

Fleur missed the bed for a few yards and she and Hermione collapsed hard on the floor.

Passing her hand over the sore area, Hermione, who had landed below, stood up and accepted Fleur's robe.

The Frenchwoman had lost all her confidence and stared at the corners of the room, certain that Hermione would start to freak out at any moment. And she could not blame her. After all, the two had been caught in an extremely compromising situation.

“Are you alright?” Came the sweetly whispered question in her ear as Hermione held her from behind.

Fleur sighed against the link and wrapped the other witch's arms with hers. “I am. And you?”

Hermione buried her face against the blonde's shoulder and nodded. “I know I'm going to listening funny things for the rest of my life..." she snorted.  “But to hell with that, right?”

Surprised, Fleur turned and hooked her by the neck, smiling at the serene expression on the brunette’s face. “So you're not regret?” She asked in a whisper.

Hermione laughed softly and stole a brief kiss. “Just for not carrying you straight into my bedroom.”

Fleur beamed and kissed her, bursting with relief. “I want you to spend the night with me.”

Biting her lip, Hermione's face grew more serious. “We still have unresolved issues, do not we? We can’t let that... Ahn, that what happened between us two interferes in the pending between our Ministries.”

Fleur was beginning to love that responsible posture of Hermione, always focused on duty. Tracing kisses down the jaw and neck of the Englishwoman, she reached hers ear. “Don’t worry, ma belle, I'm more than convinced of the... benefits of this partnership,” she purred in between bites.

Hermione closed her eyes, shivering all over her spine. “Fleur, you're mixing matters, just like I said we should not do.”

A clear laugh escaped the busy lips. Fleur opened the other's robe and slid her hands along the length of Hermione’s back.

“Come to bed, Ermione... We have unfinished business, you said it yourself...”

Without another word, Hermione found herself drawn toward the bed. She still thought it was crazy what was happening, but for the first time in her life she did not care. Fleur was there, smiling at her, full of promises of unforgettable moments. Neither was sure of what would happen in the future. All they had was the here and now. And the rest of a night to mark the beginning of what would undoubtedly be a successful partnership.

 

 

 


End file.
